


Aftermath

by DoesntMakeYouAGenius



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: A Few Bodies, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, James to the Rescue, Return of a Dead Agent, Revenge, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoesntMakeYouAGenius/pseuds/DoesntMakeYouAGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes field agents declared dead take exception to this fact. Survival isn't always more than skin deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Thomas Morton checked his gun for the fourth time, and felt inside his jacket for the reassuring shape of his extra ammunition. If he was going to get to M, he was going to have to go through a lot of bullets.

This was a score that needed settling; how he was totally abandoned in the field, how he was presumed dead but no one ever came looking for a body, how his wife and daughter were in mourning when he finally returned home.

MI6 must know he was back; there was no way they couldn't. But surely they wouldn't be expecting him to do what he was planning. They would think he was checking in, making his triumphant return, then he would show them the price of leaving an agent for dead.

He left his flat and locked it like any normal day, the familiar weight of his Glock tempered by the clips in his jacket lining. He strolled up the street, hailing a cab and slipping into the backseat, listing off an address that had almost left the front of his mind.

Almost, but not quite.

It was almost funny how the security guard on the door recognised him still, and quirked an eyebrow at his return. He scanned the ID, then nodded and buzzed him through without a word. Morton didn't shoot him, because he didn't need to. He was a field agent, so he didn't feel many emotions, but he wasn't a double 0. Killing didn't faze him, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

He was well on his way before he had to pull out his gun. A couple of unfriendly admins wanted to take him off to debrief and presumably explain the clusterfuck that had lead to his 'death'. This he couldn't do, so he shot them both, one bullet each through the head. He was still two floors down, and knew it wouldn't be long before the alarm was raised, so he quickened his pace and headed for the stairs.

***

James Bond was lounging against a wall outside Q branch, having once again been exiled from the place. He peeled an apple with a small knife, just for the pleasure of seeing how sharp it was, but soon grew bored of his game, and decided to take a walk.

He jogged down the stairs, making eye contact with a few familiar faces but not smiling, and for the most part he was ignored. One man seemed to be in a particular hurry, and he couldn't quite place where he'd seen the dark hair before, but brushed it off as a momentary lapse of memory.

He continued on his journey towards the usual hideout of the double 0s, hoping to find one of the others to talk to, or alternatively go drinking with. It was always the way, with double 0s. Here one minute, gone the next, they all trusted and liked each other inherently; they had no one else to rely on in this small world.

Richard wasn't in his office, but James had thought he was in Japan so wasn't overly surprised. Within minutes, he was frustrated that he couldn't find any of the others, and took to admin scaring instead. This drew his thoughts to the man at the bottom of the stairs whom he simply couldn't place, in spite of his ability to recognise every other person in the building.

That was when he found the bodies.

Both killed with a clean shot to the head, both MI6 men but neither of them field agents. James' immediate thought was to raise the alarm, but that would scare whoever had done this into more rash actions, and innocent people may die. Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled Moneypenny's desk.

Morton, Tom Morton was his name. The field agent named missing, presumed dead fourteen months ago. Here he was, with no announcement or word to M. For Bond, this spelled trouble. He was up and moving before the phone clicked to Moneypenny's temporarily unavailable message.

***

Alec Trevelyan nodded to Moneypenny as he headed for M's office. She commed in to announce him, then stood and picked up her coat.

"Off somewhere nice, miss Moneypenny?" Alec asked.

"Since you asked, yes I am. I'm taking lunch with a rather charming gentleman from R&D."

"Oh, how lovely," Alec grinned, all teeth, "have a tremendous time, Evie."

She rolled her eyes at him, then waved at the door. It wouldn't do to keep M waiting.

***

Morton took the stairs quickly but calmly - in a building full of agents any sort of panic on his face would be picked up immediately and he'd be stopped.

He had to shoot two guards when he reached the top floor, followed by a secretary and another admin. The silencer on his pistol bought him time, but not immunity. He still had to navigate the top floor and get into M's office without being caught. If his intel was correct, the coded doors shouldn't trouble him, and as the first slid open to reveal a long but empty corridor, he allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe this wouldn't be so terribly difficult after all.

***

James took the stairs two at a time, earning himself more than one curious look. He had no doubt that the man was heading to the top, to M, and he pushed himself to get there first. Moneypenny wasn't answering, but she was probably on lunch break. He didn't know M's direct number (a fact which needed to be rectified) and didn't know who was with him to call them, either.

He gritted his teeth against the plethora of unknowns. He didn't like not knowing, especially not when lives were at risk.

Tom Morton had been a field agent for twelve years before he'd 'died', so he knew how to get through MI6 unnoticed. He also had a vendetta - to be reduced to nothing but a name on a memorial wall after all his years of service, and when he wasn't even dead?

007 had seen men driven mad by less.

He reached the top floor and was faced with the first door propped slightly open by the leg of a dead guard, and pushed on. Next was a coded door, and James punched the numbers in hurriedly, realising how tight he was for time.

To his left him were two more bodies, one a young woman face down in the doorway to an office in which the second, a man, lay slumped across his desk.

James kicked the door open in frustration, and it banged back off the wall towards him. He ignored it, and sprinted the length of the empty corridor. Time was not on his side.

***

Alec took a seat as offered. M had placed the mission file facing him already, so he didn't hesitate before picking it up and beginning to read, keeping an ear open to M's walk through as he did. Sometimes the man had valuable information that was not included in his file.

"So this woman is wanted in four countries for murder and terrorism charges, yet has evaded capture. What makes you think she's working alone?" 006 began a tighter analysis.

"She's most likely not, but whenever she associates with someone, she drops them almost immediately. She has no known regular associates."

"So you think she's working with different people at different times, is that it?"

"In different countries, she has diff-"

Alec shot to his feet and spun around, mission file forgotten, as the door flew open. He went for his gun and stepped in front of M to protect him, but the dark haired intruder had his gun already drawn, and put two bullets into 006's chest.

Alec reeled and crumpled to one side, knees buckling. His shoulder hit the floor hard, and he was still.

M looked hard at the man in front of him, recognised the eyes, the hair, the face, the unwavering trigger finger. When the shots rang out, he was certain that was the end of him. He was pleasantly surprised, then, when Morton's eyes widened and he went down as 006 had, with little grace and a lot of pain.

James kicked Morton's body aside and crossed the room in two strides.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, curtly.

"No. See to 006." M called medical and asked for urgent attention in his office as 007 knelt beside his brother.

He rolled Alec onto his back, checking for a pulse and finding a weak and fluttery one. Applying pressure to the bleeding gunshot wounds Bond tried to wake him, but only received a couple of vague moans for his troubles.

"Come on, Alec. This is a pathetic way to go. No pyrotechnic blaze of glory?" His eyelids flickered, his eyes moving rapidly beneath them. "Come on, Alec, come on."

He slid into a better position, one hand firmly pushing against his wounds and the other against Alec's throat, first for a pulse and then for reassurance, the warmth of 006's skin doing little to quiet James' fears. Alec's eyes stopped moving, but James continued talking, hand sliding around to cradle his head now, and refusing to give up.

Bond held him like that until medical came and took him away.

***

The memorial wall no longer held Thomas Morton's name. In the end, he was stripped even of that dignity.

Neither did it hold Alec Trevelyan's.

When Bond first saw Alec out of hospital, he would have described him as grey. His skin was off colour, his demeanour cloudy, and his movements lacked their usual edge. However, with the usual rehabilitation (read: blatant abuse of medication-alcohol guidelines), he was pulling through.

M was grateful for the bullets Alec had taken for him, but wouldn't admit it to the man himself. Besides, Alec knew it already, and if M allowed him a couple of extra sessions in the gun range test running Q branch's new weapons, that was his business and his alone.


End file.
